


Completely Closet Case

by Sola_Ircadia



Category: Tekken
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Attempt at Humor, Cliche, Grinding, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Steve is a horrible matchmaker, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:52:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sola_Ircadia/pseuds/Sola_Ircadia
Summary: What do you do when your captain and vice-captain both have the hots for one another? Lock them in a closet, of course!





	Completely Closet Case

**Author's Note:**

> University dragged me out into the schoolyard and beat the shit out of me, you guys. No kidding. But I promise I'm still writing, it's just a lot harder to finish things lately, ahaha. 
> 
> With that said, this barely constitutes as anything substantial, just some mindless fun to get me back on track. I know it's totally cliched, but it was fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

It’s hard being the captain.

 

Jin is just going to put that out there.

 

Really, one doesn’t exactly expect it to be, but there are parts of it that are more absurd and more unbelievable than you would ever even dream of. Jin certainly hadn’t thought about it back when he’d first stepped up to the task, but sitting here now, he kind of wishes that he had at least considered the possibility that the job might be a little more insane than it said on the tin.

 

Because really, he highly doubts that any of his predecessors expected _this_.

 

* * *

 

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

 

It’s hardly a question and Hwoarang’s voice is muffled by Jin’s shoulder, crammed into such a tiny space as they are. How Jin got in here is beyond him – one second he’d been leaving the locker room for practice, and the next second, Steve and a few other teammates had literally corralled him across the hall and into the damned supply closet, of all places. Before he could even register what had happened, the door was shut tight behind him and his teammates were gone.

 

That in itself had been bad enough, but a few minutes later, the sound of raised voices had been his only warning before the door opened once more and another body was flung into the small space with him, solid muscle and a flash of bright hair that was clearly visible in the mere moments that pass between his entry and the shutting of the door behind him. Solid muscle that is now pressed up against him, firm and unyielding. Jin swallows. This day could not possibly get any worse.

 

“Sorry,” he manages, but Hwoarang probably doesn’t hear him as he pushes off Jin’s body and goes for the door. It’s locked, of course (from the outside? Where the hell are they?) and the vice-captain curses loudly with all his usual finesse.

 

“This isn’t funny, Fox!” Hwoarang yells, banging on the door. “Let us out, you creep!”

 

“No can do, Hwoarang!” Steve says brightly, and Hwoarang glowers at the door in the direction of the sound of his cheerful voice. “We expect results, and you’re not coming out until we get them!”

 

“What – ? What the hell does that mean, you dick? I swear, I am gonna kick your ass so hard when I – !” the redhead starts, but Jin cuts him off before the tirade gets any more explicit.

 

“Fox, you are going to be in so much trouble when we get out.” His threat, although much quieter than Hwoarang’s loud declarations, does the job, and Steve’s laughter falters for a moment. Then someone else mutters something indiscernible and Steve lets out a loud whoop, startling everyone, including the two trapped in the closet.

 

“I’ll take my chances, then! Later, mates!”

 

“W-wait! Fox, are you insane?” Hwoarang cries, but it’s too late. Their traitorous teammates are walking away, and no amount of yelling or swearing is going to make them come back. It’s like a bad movie, not that Jin has seen many of those – the one movie he saw where someone got trapped in a closet had to do with a hostage situation, and he doesn’t really want to be thinking along those lines. It’s a small space as is, and he needs to keep calm.

 

Which, admittedly is difficult to do with Hwoarang so angry and so _close_. Jin has known since their first year that Hwoarang was a little different than the other people he’d met, but it wasn’t until he’d started daydreaming about how unreasonably good his auburn-haired teammate looked in his usual pair of black and dark green legskins that Jin began to realize exactly what was going on. Since then, he hadn’t exactly been able to get over it. Or do anything about it, really, other than take care of himself very quietly somewhere private after practice. Jin thanks his lucky stars that Hwoarang is at least still wearing his team warm-up jacket and hopes that whatever sliver of good fortune allowing that to happen might also help them out of this situation sooner rather than later.

 

In front of him, Hwoarang sighs, resting his forehead against the closet door with an audible “thump” of defeat and frustration. He seems just about as fed-up and befuddled by the whole debacle as Jin is, albeit more openly so, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Where Jin is quiet, Hwoarang is loud. Where Jin is thoughtful and careful, Hwoarang is reckless and irresponsible. What separates them is Hwoarang’s unwillingness to be anyone but himself, no matter the consequences, and what unites them is their unfailing focus and dedication towards the team. What had once made his teammate so irritating is now a strength that Jin has grudgingly come to admire, and although he’d probably die if he had to admit it, Jin actually finds his temper somewhat...endearing at times. Since they’ve gotten to know each other better, Hwoarang has also become more adept at speaking in Jin’s stead when he’s trying to avoid unnecessary confrontation. At the moment, his frustration definitely mirrors Jin’s own, and his form shifts as though he’s trying to decide what he should say.

 

“So.” Hwoarang sounds uncomfortable, which is relatable, to say the least. “How’d they get you?”

 

“They shoved me really hard,” Jin admits, and Hwoarang snorts.

 

“Impressive, captain.” There’s a sort of teasing note to his words, and Jin smiles.

 

“I...didn’t have much of a warning.”

 

“That’s fair,” Hwoarang concedes, and the conversation drifts off into momentary silence. Hwoarang jiggles the handle to no avail, and Jin sighs.

 

“So...what about you?”

 

“Oh, boy.” Hwoarang suddenly sounds exhausted, and Jin raises an eyebrow. “Fox came up to me all worried like ‘The captain’s gotten himself trapped in the supply closet, won’t you come help us get him out?’ And me, being the idiot that I am, totally fell for it. Amazing, right?”

 

Jin knows he shouldn’t laugh, but he does anyway, Hwoarang’s way of recounting the events funnier than anything else about it.

 

“I still can’t quite believe that this is happening,” Jin offers, and Hwoarang lets out a short bark of derisive laughter.

 

“Fox is a dead man when I get out of here.” He declares, and Jin believes him. Hwoarang always has been a lot of talk, both in and out of the pool, but his main selling point as vice-captain is that he can back up almost all of his claims with skill, talent, and, if necessary, his fists. Granted, this has sometimes been more trouble than it’s worth, but there are worse things to put up with.

 

“He’s definitely doing some extra laps,” Jin agrees. “He and whoever else worked this out.”

 

“What the hell’s the deal, anyway?” Hwoarang complains. “I know we’ve been pushing everyone to get ready for regionals, but _shit_ , dude, they coulda just told us to chill instead of shutting our asses in here!”

 

“I don’t think this has anything to do with regionals, actually.” Jin says slowly, trying to remember if Steve had said anything notable earlier. “It sounded like they were laughing at some sort of joke.”

 

“Yeah, one that we’re not in on.” Hwoarang sounds distinctly put out by this, and Jin hides a smile despite not needing to. Bizarre circumstances aside, this is the most time they’ve had to themselves in a few weeks. Jin hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the other teen’s company until just now, and the force of it is actually pretty stunning. His body keeps trying to remind him of their very convenient proximity, but...well, he’ll just ignore that part.

 

“Any thoughts on how to get out of here?” He asks instead, and Hwoarang shrugs.

 

“Worst comes to worst, they’ll let us out after practice.” He says, pausing to frown slightly. “Probably. I don’t know what they meant by “results”, but he’s gonna have to live with the disappointment on that one.”

 

“Yeah.” Jin can’t help but think that Steve isn’t the only one who’s going to be disappointed, and makes an effort to push such nonsense from his head before he says something about it.

 

They lapse into silence again, Hwoarang studying the door and Jin – unintentionally, despite his best efforts to the contrary – studying him in turn. The heat in the little room has made him push the sleeves of his jacket up, and Jin knows it won’t be long before the whole thing comes off, and _then_ where will _that_ leave him? Going around in nothing but one’s legskins is one thing in the natatorium where they practice, but Jin can’t imagine how poorly that would go down for him with Hwoarang being as close as he is. In this tight, hot space. With no one else around but them. _Jesus_. This is all one giant fever dream, isn’t it?

 

Hwoarang’s voice pulls Jin out of his thoughts, the sharp, frustrated sound of it a familiar attention-grabber. Jin has gotten used to hearing Hwoarang snap at people, but he doesn’t usually do it during practice unless someone really deserves a good reaming. It’s pretty obvious that he’s getting fed-up now.

 

“Maybe I can kick the door down,” Hwoarang mutters, mostly to himself, and Jin glances at him in alarm.

 

“I really don’t think there’s enough room for that – ”

 

“Sure there is,” Hwoarang says easily, and that’s all the warning Jin gets before his teammate is hauling back as far as he can and launching his weight at the door in front of them.

 

Evidently, supply closet doors are made of some pretty strong stuff, because all Hwoarang really manages to do is use the momentum of his own kick to shove himself backwards. Backwards into Jin. Who is now shoved halfway to the floor and halfway against the opposite wall by his teammate’s body, of all things.

 

“That was a bad idea,” Hwoarang gasps, but Jin isn’t listening. He can’t really hear anything over the blood roaring in his ears once he registers their proximity, once his body realizes that he’s pressed up tight against Hwoarang and _he likes it_. He’s all power and muscle and holy shit his back – that’s not his back, that’s his _butt_ , someone _help_ – is up against Jin’s crotch. There is absolutely no way that this situation could possibly get any more incriminating.

 

“You okay, Kazama?” Hwoarang shifts against him, trying to get his footing, and Jin almost screams. Oh. _Oh no_.

 

He’d been wrong before. This is steadily becoming more incriminating by the second.

 

“Fine,” he chokes out, hands bracing against the wall to balance himself better. “You?”

 

“I’ve been better.” Hwoarang has stopped moving, seemingly trying to figure out a way to push off of Jin without shoving his captain the rest of the way to the floor. He glances back over his shoulder.

 

“I’m gonna get up, okay?” he says, and Jin nods, not trusting himself to speak anymore. He has to be careful now if he doesn’t want this to end poorly. Hwoarang shifts again, bracing himself – and freezes.

 

Jin immediately panics, the icy rush of fear gripping him as he wonders what the hell just went wrong. Why did he stop moving? Did something happen? Did he – oh _gods_ , oh _fuck_ , oh _no_ – did he feel something?

 

“Hwoarang?” Jin ventures, voice barely above a whisper.

 

“Yeah?” His teammate doesn’t sound too upset, which Jin counts as a good sign.

 

“...you alright?”

 

A brief pause.

 

“Mhm.” Hwoarang’s voice sounds a little strange, suddenly. “The real question is, are you?”

 

As he asks, he moves his lower body, intentionally pressing back against Jin’s crotch and making him gasp. Shit. _Shitshitshit_.

 

“I’m fine!” Jin’s words come out strangled beyond repair, and Hwoarang laughs quietly.

 

“You sure?” He teases, punctuating his words with another well-executed push against Jin’s lower body. The short whine that escapes him in response is not addressed directly, but Hwoarang shoots him a look over his shoulder that has Jin feeling hot all over again.

 

“I’m sorry.” He grinds out, silently willing any omniscient being to strike him down within the next five seconds. Hwoarang raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“Don’t be.”

 

Jin is pretty sure he’s just forgotten how to breathe.

 

“Huh?” he manages, settling back farther against the wall when Hwoarang pushes off and turns around towards him. There’s a mischievous grin on his face that Jin know better than to mess with, but for some reason, it’s almost reassuring this time around. The knowing look in his eyes as he leans into Jin’s personal space, though, that’s far from comforting.

 

“Normally, I’d be willing to let this slide or something,” Hwoarang says, and Jin has to fight to tear his gaze away from his mouth at this distance. “But you’ve been looking at me funny for about a year now, and I think I just got my answer as to why.” Hwoarang quirks an eyebrow at him, looking all too pleased with himself. “You like me, don’t you?”

 

Jin tries to quell the instinctive urge to panic, reminding himself that Hwoarang doesn’t seem all-too upset about this information. At least he isn’t getting angry with him, or worse, freaking out and refusing to even look at him. Sure, he’ll probably embarrass him about it later, but it’s nothing that he can’t –

 

“I sure hope you do, anyway,” Hwoarang says lightly, tracing Jin’s exposed collarbone with a curious finger. “Cause I really like you, and it would kinda suck if I was wrong.”

 

This situation has slipped so far out of his control that he doesn’t even know where or how to start salvaging the shattered pieces of his brain. All he knows at this point is that his secret is out, and that, by some goddamn miracle, Hwoarang reciprocates his silly little feelings. Comfortably. And is currently pressing against him in a way that just has his nerves fraying out like electric wires.

 

“I do like you.” He mumbles, trying to concentrate on not leaning into that forbidden contact. “Is that okay?”

 

Hwoarang laughs at him then, and it’s one of Jin’s favorite sounds. “It’s more than okay, Kazama,” he teases, and then he’s kissing him.

 

He’s kissing him and Jin thinks he’s going to explode. It feels so fucking _good_ that it’s almost unreal. He’s damn near ecstatic at the pressure of his teammate’s mouth against his own, at the silent slip of tongue and teeth and whatever the hell else is going on in there right now, because Jin doesn’t really know, he just knows that Hwoarang is fucking _kissing_ him and he could just about burst from the excitement of it.

 

Hwoarang’s arms are up around his neck and Jin cups his jaw in his hands, giving back as much as he can manage without pulling back for air. Their bodies press together, and holy _shit_ , that’s _amazing_. He wants more of that. Evidently, Hwoarang agrees with him, because he draws away for a split second to tug his jacket off and something in Jin’s brain just snaps. Before he can even think about it, he drags him back again and slides their bodies tightly together.

 

“Fuck,” Hwoarang pants, forehead resting on Jin’s shoulder even as he reaches around to pull his captain closer by the back of his thigh. “Oh, fuck, _fuck_!”

 

Jin whines, hands on Hwoarang’s waist as he rolls his hips forward to meet his vice-captain’s thrusts, self-restraint entirely decimated in the face of this wonderful friction. His head tilts back to rest against the wall behind him and he gasps, trying to catch his breath, but he can’t seem to manage it. The space is too small, the air is too hot, and Hwoarang is just too close and feels too good to be of any help right now.

 

He wants to touch him.

 

“By all means, then,” Hwoarang laughs, and now Jin just wants to die with embarrassment. He fucking said it out loud.

 

“...can’t...” he manages, just barely getting the word out around a breathless moan.

 

“Kazama,” Hwoarang warns, and his voice is so much deeper suddenly that Jin shudders, shifting his leg more firmly between his vice-captain’s thighs. “If you don’t, then I will.”

 

Jin doesn’t have the words to respond to that. He just moans again, a little louder this time, and then Hwoarang’s mouth is against his, hot and forceful and demanding. His lips are soft, his teeth sending a jolt through Jin’s body when he nips at him; his tongue is distracting as hell, and Jin finds himself completely overpowered in an instant. He’s so absorbed in the kiss that he doesn’t notice his hands moving on their own accord, sliding down Hwoarang’s waist to his hips to his thighs, hesitating only for the barest of moments before pressing the heel of his hand against the bulge in Hwoarang’s legskins.

 

“ _F-fuck!_ ”

 

The redhead breaks away and buries his face in Jin’s neck, barely stifling another cry as he pushes closer. His hands scrabble at Jin’s hips, his stomach, eventually giving up on trying to get underneath his legskins and settling for palming Jin’s cock through the tight material. Jin inhales sharply and lets out a shuddering moan, one that Hwoarang echoes with twice the volume.

 

“H-Hwoarang,” Jin tries, but his teammate shakes his head.

 

“Shut up, Jin,” he gasps, and then he’s kissing him so hard that Jin can’t even think anymore.

 

It devolves from there with stunning rapidity, a storm of groans and gasps and hands that can’t be kept to themselves. It’s an endless rush of skin-on-skin contact that leaves him dizzy; it’s a veritable windstorm that sucks the oxygen from his lungs and swallows every sound he tries to make. They’re touching each other and they can’t stop kissing and it all feels so fucking _good_ that Jin almost begins to think that he’s dreaming, because how the hell can this actually be happening?

 

Hwoarang grips him tighter and Jin lets out a sound that can only be described as a small shriek, his brain having logged off long ago at the feeling of his teammate’s hand on his cock. Jin returns the favor and is rewarded with a similar noise from Hwoarang, except his turns into a choked-off moan almost immediately. There’s a change, a shift, Hwoarang’s teeth are nipping at his throat and oh, _gods_ , he’s gonna –

 

Hwoarang whimpers against his skin and shudders, suddenly going stiff in Jin’s arms as he gasps helplessly against his neck. The wetness on Jin’s hand almost makes him lose his mind, but the sound of Hwoarang mewling quietly through his climax is what has him following suit more than anything, his head falling back against the wall as a choked cry leaves his lips.

 

He isn’t sure how long they stay like that, Hwoarang slumped against him and Jin pressed up against the wall, but whatever reverie they might be having is rudely interrupted by the sound of Steve’s jovial voice from outside the door.

 

“You two alive in there?”

 

Hwoarang jumps and Jin jerks forward, knocking his head against Hwoarang’s on accident and just barely managing to not swear about it. Hwoarang has no such reservations, holding his head in one hand as he snatches his jacket from the floor with the other and throwing it over his shoulder.

 

“Fox, you stupid motherfucker,” he snarls. “You gonna let us out?”

 

“That depends.” Steve says easily. “Did anything happen?”

 

Hwoarang glances back over his shoulder, his expression unreadable for a moment or two as he seems to take in Jin’s ragged, somewhat less-than-put together appearance. Before he turns around, he grins, snagging Jin by the front of his jacket and planting a firm kiss on his mouth.

 

“Kazama and I are dating now.” He announces when he pulls back, and Jin feels his whole face flush red. Steve’s ensuing fit of laughter isn’t helping, either.

 

“It’s about bloody time!” Their blond teammate complains, and they hear the lock click before Steve throws the door open to let them back into the hallway. “Damn, we’ve been trying to get you guys to hook up for ages now.”

 

“Is that what this was about?” Jin asks, aghast. “You wasted an entire practice session for _that_?”

 

“Come on, Kazama, would you really call that a waste?” Hwoarang teases, although he’s a little flushed, too. Turning back to Steve, he adds, “You know that you and your accomplices are gonna have to swim extra laps, right?”

 

Steve waves him off, not seeming to mind the usually dreaded punishment.

 

“Totally worth it,” he laughs. Hwoarang glances at Jin as though double-checking on his verdict, and he seems surprised at the small grin forming on Jin’s face.

 

“Yeah,” he says, putting an arm around Hwoarang’s waist and smirking at him, oddly unruffled by the entire situation now that everything has boiled over. “Totally worth it.”

 

Hwoarang’s laughter can probably be heard from the natatorium.

 


End file.
